Sentieri selvaggi

John Ford and John Wayne re-team for their best and most famous western. Wayne plays returning Civil War veteran Ethan Edwards, who comes to the Texas ranch of his brother on hopes of settling down to a new life. Unfortunately, these plans are cruelly thwarted when the ranch(filled with the women and children) is raided by ruthless and renegade Indian chief Scar, who attacks and massacres the family, except for little Debbie Edwards(Natalie Wood) Ethan, enraged and distraught by this raid, vows to track down and kill the tribe, and rescue his niece, with the help from his nephew Martin(played by Jeffrey Hunter). This search takes several years of their lives, across the country and through all kinds of weather and obstacles, until one day they finally locate Debbie, who is now assimilated into the tribe Ethan hates, and he may not be able to spare her...

Gorgeously filmed on location in Ford's beloved Monument Valley, with an intelligent and ambitious script and a superlative performance by Wayne, as a driven and vengeful man who is not always likable, but is still righteous and fascinating. Film does ramble a bit, and the outcome is not really in doubt, but excellent film is still worth watching, with an astonishing closing scene.

A second look at this film is long overdue. It's been hailed by many as a masterpiece. Even the anti-Ford critic David Thomson in The New Biographical Dictionary of Film classifies it as an exceptional work. I don't know whether it's the Ford mystique, the Wayne icon, or the mesmerizing beauty of Monument Valley that holds this movie to a different standard from most Westerns. But something is at work that numbs a critical eye-level inquiry. The Searchers is a good film, but no masterpiece, and certainly does not belong in the American Film Institute's list of top 100 films of all time. A brief look at some of the more obvious defects:

Ford makes picture postcards out of the soaring spires and buttes. At no point, however, does he come to grips with the real harshness of the terrain. This is desert country. Hardly anything grows-- just look at the sparseness of greenery. Yet we're told cattle herds feed here in large enough numbers to support families, (In the movie, Jorgensen's right-- they would be better off raising pigs than cattle). Then too, there is absolutely no hint of the desert heat or cold affecting anything or anybody. The parties go here and there with slim regard for what the conditions actually afford. In short, the celebrated landscape amounts to little more than a majestic backdrop without a true reality of its own. Ford may love this Spartan terrain, but he gives it scant respect.

Similarly, the film-maker undercuts the naturalism of the vaunted visuals. The audience gets an awesome flow of natural wonders, only to have the flow interrupted by outdoor sets so painfully obvious, they can't be ignored, (consider the Futterman ambush scene, for one). As a result, visual continuity is sacrificed and so is fidelity to the intended atmosphere. Suddenly we're jolted out of the scenic spell back into recognition that this is, after all, only a movie. Where, one wonders, was Ford's very real poetic eye in these disruptive scenes, and why didn't he insist on shooting all outdoor scenes outdoors-- especially after traveling to Colorado for the great snow scenes. As a premier film-maker, I'm sure he had the clout. Nonetheless, the lapse is another glaring defect.

There's another problem with respect, this time for the adversary. In fact, the Indians do get some concessions--Scar is provided a moment of motivation and a good sarcastic aside-- but not much else. As in Ford's cavalry cycle, aboriginal peoples still exist as convenient devices and sitting ducks. From the film's several battles, it seems the Indians know nothing about combat tactics. Stupidly, they never attack unless an escape route is left open to the fleeing settlers. And when they attack frontally across the river or in front of the cave, they mass in a bunch so the dug-in whites can hardly miss. No wonder there are so few Indians left. In most Westerns, this cliché would not even merit comment, but remember this one's supposed to be a "masterpiece".(For a gauge of Ford's dishonesty, compare his cardboard warriors with the skilled and savvy combatants in the similarly themed "Ulzana's Raid" {1973}).

For what is required of the actors, contrast the first ten minutes with the movie's remainder. Those first few minutes are little short of superb. There's a low-key naturalism and subtlety that's fascinating-- Just who is Ethan Edwards? What is the tension between his brother and him? And where did he get that impressive war medal? The well-crafted impression is that of real people concealing true feelings, while groping toward some kind of reconciliation across unspoken barriers. Then Ward Bond and the posse arrive and slam-bang stereotypes take over. The promising beginning is lost, while Ford reverts to form by replacing character with caricature. Bond, for example, stands not just as a gruff old man, but as The Gruff Old Man; Jeffrey Hunter is not just a callow youth, but The Callow Youth; and most egregiously, Ken Curtis is not merely one more country yokel, but The Rub-your-Nose-In-It Country Yokel. Moreover, conversation ceases, hat-throwing and shouting take over, and genuine interaction gives way to exaggerated personalities doing little more than bouncing off one another. Even Wayne's one-note avenger comes close to parody, (unlike others, however, he is never mocked). Of course, such caricatures provide ample grist for Ford's broad idea of humor. Nonetheless, the comic set-ups come perilously close at times to a Three Stooges level, particularly the scenes with Old Mose, and with Bond and Patrick Wayne. I'm not against comic relief, but I am when it flirts with burlesque in an otherwise serious film.

More could be pointed out, such as the distracting subplots, or the ludicrous wedding sequence, or most glaringly, the climax with its sudden, unmotivated change of heart-- after all, it's the racial conflict that drives the plot. I guess what really bothers me is how blithely Ford substitutes his own highly simplistic vision of the Old West for any really plausible version. There's a basic lack of respect for the material, which allows, for example, such facile touches as Jorgensen's unweathered two-story wooden house in the middle of the desert, or Vera Miles' brocaded form-fitting wedding gown that appears to have been flown in from Paris. My point is not that the film lacks merit-- the justly celebrated doorway shots, for example. Rather, it's one of perspective-- this is an entertaining film but far from a masterpiece.The Searchers may be lauded and popular with many. Nonetheless, beneath the glossy surface lies an under-developed theme that really deserved better than standard stock company treatment. In short, Thomson is wrong. The Searchers is not an exception to Ford's usual product. Rather, it's just a little less compromised.

A lone home amidst tranquil mesas. A family gathers on their front porch to watch a solitary man ride slowly up to their ranch on his horse in the waning sun. He stops, disembarks and walks up to the house, all in one single weary move. Note his stance, the rugged tiredness of life etched on his face. This lone drifter is Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) and is perhaps the most brilliant character devised by Wayne and director John Ford. As the film progresses, we learn of his military days, his contempt of Indians and, most importantly, his psyche. Compared to another John ford movie, "Stagecoach", we can see the massive differences in character psychology and within the genre itself. Gone are the days of the brave hero riding in to save the day with wistful smiles all around; instead we have a savage man on an odyssey of revenge, hatred and bloodshed.

In one scene, Ethan and a search party comes across a dead Indian buried in the ground. Ethan's suppressed rage overcomes him, and he shoots the corpse's eyes out. "What good did that do ya?" asks the Reverend. Ethan coolly replies, "Ain't got no eyes so he can't enter the spirit land, has to wander forever between the winds". This is by far my favourite line in the movie, because of the resonance it has at the end, with Ethan walking away into the winds, doomed to forever drift the earth. This movie is a beautiful spectacle of sight and sound. Not only do we marvel at scenes in Ford's beloved Monument Valley, we also find ourselves amazed at the level of detail in set design. Each frame is as if it were from a painter's canvas. Colour coordination was certainly something John Ford and his cinematographers fit perfectly into. There are few vibrant colours in each frame, but those that exist pop out vividly amongst the bleak, sepia-stained walls of the houses, and the valley.

John Ford again demonstrates his powerful storytelling technique by using several methods of progressing the narrative. While crosscutting between action is used sparingly, a quasi-flashback stemming from a letter of Luke's kept my attention firmly rooted to my screen. These different methods of narrative progression are important because it keeps the viewer continuously involved with the story. Not once did I feel as if a particular scene droned on and on for too long, instead I felt captivated not only by a gripping storyline, but also because of the brilliant dichotomy between Ethan Edwards and the other characters. The Searchers is a lesson on psychology, sociology and filmmaking all at once. I love it.

Many people would probably watch a film like this and come away thinking that it was too long and slow - but they'd be wrong. It's the perfect length for an epic visual feast. It tells a story in it's own impeccable time. It is a story spread over a period of years after all. The dialogue is brilliant, I love the way (now considered cheesy or clichéd phrases etc) the characters express themselves. The concept of the ruthless, merciless good guy isn't new but in this film I feel it's produced to perfection. I can only imagine that this movie is one of the first of it's kind.

In an attempt not to be over analysing things, it seems to me that there is real depth to an old school cowboy and Indian picture. This is regard to the themes of racism and revenge, the war torn vet. Even the more obvious rebellion and admiration adds even more complexity to it. However, by modern standards, the acting is questionable. It's melodramatic to say the least and John Wayne, as iconic as he is, isn't brilliant. You can see him anticipating his next lines, you can see in his eyes that this is just another day at the office. But hell, this was a different time and a different method.

A John Ford masterwork that's rich and spacious, just like the gorgeous western countryside that splashes every backdrop. John Wayne plays a flawed centerpiece, a grizzled former soldier with a chip on his shoulder and a strange, conflicted relationship with his extended family. As usual, cool confidence and raw masculinity seep from his pores and he takes hold of each scene with a pair of strong, old cowherder's hands. This is a film that rewards an active imagination, as there's much going on between the lines that, without being spelled out, brands the cast with an unusual level of depth and detail. Unspoken histories flesh out most every character, allowing even generic walk-ons to mosey into the picture at most any moment and cast ripples throughout the entire tapestry. It can be slow at times, and the casting of a very obviously non-native actor to lead the stereotypical enemy Comanche tribe doesn't sit well, but both such faults can be generally chalked up to the dated eccentricities of that era. Take the time to soak it all in, to look deeper than the superficial story, and you'll find a wealth of spoils.